


Writing on the Table

by tjmystic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjmystic/pseuds/tjmystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumple is visited by Belle while in prison; ddagent’s prompt “Rum takes her on the War Council Table after everybody else leaves”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writing on the Table

Title: Writing on the Table

Rating: NC-17

Warning: EXTREEEEEEEMELY angsty smut ahead

Summary: Rumple is visited by Belle while in prison; ddagent’s prompt “Rum takes her on the War Council Table after everybody else leaves”

Snippet: “Don’t do this, love. Don’t do this to me again.”

Her eyebrows creased together, just as they always did at this part of his dreams. “Don’t do what?”

He cringed and looked away. “Make me believe that you’re alive when I know it’s just a dream.”

Author’s Note: … yeah, this thing kinda got away from me. Sorry bout that, Kelly. But here, I’ll try to explain: Like many other Rumbelle fans, my heart broke a little bit when Mary Margaret and Emma were talking about Rumple in his dungeon cell. The lines, “How did he keep from going mad?” and then, “He didn’t”, in particular, got to me. Like with all things that make me sad, though, I started to dissect it – for example, I don’t see him as the type to go as batshit crazy as he was in the first and second episodes just by being locked up by himself for a few months. Granted, that might be a little too dismissive of his human side, but you’ve gotta think: dude’s been basically all alone for 300 years, Belle and his escapades with Regina excluded, so isolation really shouldn’t mess with him that much. Naturally, then, I started thinking about what might have made him so nuts, and, because I’m an incredibly sick person, I decided to fic it – please forgive me.

——————————————————————————————————————————————------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma… Emma… Emma… Emma… Emma… Emma… Emma…

Rumplestiltskin laughed, a sick little giggle as he curled the spine off the last “a” on the page. That ought to stick, he thought, tucking it away in the little hole he’d dug into the rock. All the threads were coming together at last, and now all he had to do was wait.

The light left his eyes, but he kept giggling, knowing it would upset the guards. If only it were so easy to wait.

For centuries, the only thing he could honestly claim as a friend was that constant numbness of waiting – waiting for Cora to make the deal, waiting for Regina to be born, waiting for Snow to meet Charming. Waiting. Still, he always had deals and his magic to keep him from going too crazy (not that a lot of people would agree with that assessment of his sanity). Now, though, he was stuck in a cage of his own design, part of his own plan, waiting for Regina to cast his curse while feasting on wormy bread. It would’ve been horrible on its own, but with every passing day that he couldn’t use his magic as an outlet, his dreams got progressively more real. When Regina finally stopped messing around and killed her fucking father, this would all be over and his sanity might come back, though probably not in perfect condition. But until then, he had to deal with his beautiful boy skirting in and out of the cell, crying that he forgave his papa and now they could go home. His Bae shouting that he’d never forgive him as he turned sharply on his heel and ran. Or worse, he’d get both of them at once. 

Tonight was shaping up to be a “both” sort of night. 

 

He smelt her first, just like he always did. Faint as it was, the scent of roses and water lilies that followed her everywhere overrode the foul stench of the dungeons. The sound of light footsteps racing through the mud came next, just as haunting as the image he knew would arise before him son enough. He hoped she’d be whole this time. That was the least she could do. He couldn’t stand it if she came to him on fire again, begging him to put out the flames the clerics had set to her. Even that wasn’t as bad as the two occasions she’d showed up devoid of skin crying through lidless eyes as she explained why she had to throw herself from her father’s tower.

But no. This Belle was new – or old, he supposed. She looked exactly as she had when he’d banished her from his castle, blue dress and all. His heart clenched when she let out a sob of relief, gripping the bars of his cell.

“Rumple, you’re here!” she laughed, a tinkling sound like her name would suggest.

He almost laughed, too, but rather less humorously. “But you aren’t.”

She took a step back, her face no longer ecstatic. “What?”

“You heard me, dearie. You aren’t here.” He wanted to turn away, but he was damned to stay in the same spot, eyes forever seeking hers. “You never are.”

“But I am here! I promise, Rum, I’m actually here.” She had the audacity to look heartbroken. His mind was a sick playground. 

“Don’t do this, love. Don’t do this to me again.”

Her eyebrows creased together, just as they always did at this part of his dreams. “Don’t do what?”

He cringed and looked down. “Make me believe that you’re alive when I know it’s just a dream.”

Her arms reached between the bars just before he could move away, grabbing his hands and holding him close. He’d never felt her so keenly before. Even the little wrinkles between her fingers felt real to him.

“It’s just a dream,” he told himself, even as he turned around in her arms. “You’re dead.”

Her hands gripped his hair, fingering the nasty locks as if they were the beautiful things she’d ever felt. “Does this feel like a dream?”

He shivered. “It never feels like a dream. Not anymore.”

“I found your son,” she murmured, and he cinched his eyes shut. He would not cry, not here like this. “Does that make you believe?”

“Of all the things you could’ve said, that’s the one that makes me trust this the least. Please, Belle. Leave me alone. I can’t…” He choked, but, coward that he was, he coughed past the emotion. “I can’t leave. I’m right where I want to be.”

She scuffled around for a moment but didn’t leave. Finally, she sighed and gripped the sides of his face through the bars. “Fine. There’s only one more thing I can do.”

He sneered. “Oh really? And what would that –?”

Her mouth cut him off, petal pink lips skimming against his own, and never before had he dreamt that she’d do this.

His skin shimmered, tightened, and pulled like it had all those years ago when she’d first kissed him. He didn’t have the presence of mind to hold onto his curse, but, thankfully or not, Belle stopped. He fell forward, Belle having apparently opened the gate while he watched his hands morph back to their normal green scales. He was still on the floor, dizzy as hell and brain rushing to understand, when Belle knelt before him, hands on his shoulders.

“Rum? Are you alright?”

“Belle,” he sobbed, pulling her into his lap. “You’re alive. You’re alive.”

“Of course I’m alive,” she smiled, but her eyes were just as wet as his. 

He held onto his curse tooth and nail, had to, because he would never stop kissing her. He didn’t care that it was sloppy, that her lips couldn’t keep up with the trembling clack of his teeth – all that mattered was that she was here, and she was real, and she still loved him.

It felt like tearing off one of his limbs, but he finally pulled away from Belle’s lips, forehead resting against hers.

“Where’s Bae?”

“Your son?” Rumple nodded, realizing that he’d never actually told her his boy’s name. “He’s not here. Not yet, anyway. But I found something we could use to get to him. That’s why I came down here to get you. Though, since you said you didn’t want to leave –”

“That doesn’t matter now,” he interrupted. “I’m only here because it was part of my plan to find Bae.” He snorted. “I must say, your way sounds much simpler.”

Belle smiled widely at that and helped the both of them to their feet. “I hope so,” she replied, trying to nonchalantly wipe the remaining tears from her eyes. He took over from her and swiped her cheeks himself, bringing the drops to his lips. She blushed as she murmured her thanks. “Anyway, what I found is upstairs in the meeting room. We might have to wait outside for a few seconds, though – when I peeked in earlier, they were just starting.”

She started to pull him down the tunnel, but he stopped her short. He’d be damned if he was going to take the ungodly long walk upstairs when he could just use his magic – not now that his son was so close.

“Would you mind?” he asked, wiggling his fingers. Belle shrugged, and he took that as all the approval he needed. A glow of purple smoke and two footsteps later, they were standing just outside the Charmings’ War Council room. 

They were in luck, it seemed, for just as they pressed their ears to the wood, they heard heavy footfalls and the clang of the main door that meant everyone had just left. He chanced an anxious look at his miraculously-still-there Belle and kissed her hand before pushing it open.

His eyes sought out the slightest trace of magic, knowing that it wouldn’t likely be far subtler than Snow and her husband. Brash though they were, he doubted they’d be so obvious as to keep a swirling green portal in their meeting room. And, sure enough, he felt the tremors of a powerful spell when his eyes landed on a wardrobe in the corner.

“It doesn’t look like much,” Belle interjected, almost as if she’d heard his thoughts, “but I overheard them talking earlier. Apparently, if you step inside, the wardrobe will take you to a land without magic.”

“Where Bae went to.”

Belle nodded. “It has to be.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and moved forward, hand on the wardrobe handle. He only stopped when he realized that Belle hadn’t followed.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

She smiled at the endearment but remained glued to the spot, shuffling nervously back and forth.

“It’s just… I’d never want to take away from your son, never, but… when you get him back – and I completely understand this – you’ll want to spend all your time with him. So I was hoping… maybe we could have some us time before we go? Just a few minutes would be enough.”

Smiling hurt, unused to it as he was, but he could hardly help himself. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

That smile flickered into something much darker and surprised, though, when her trembling hands pressed the top button of her dress apart. He could feel his eyes burning, knew that they must’ve been overtaken by his black pupils, and tried not to embarrass himself too much when his blood automatically sank.

She giggled when she reached the third button and finally looked up to see his face. “I’ve never really done this before,” she admitted. “Well, I’ve never done this before period. I am supposed to undress first, though, right?”

As soon as her words caught up with him, he shook his head no. Ignoring her look of dismay, he stepped forward and took the sleeve of her dress in his own hands. “No. I’m supposed to undress you.” He blinked, his nervousness returned tenfold. “But only if you’re ready.”

She looked shyly at him from under her long eyelashes, but her head was steady when she nodded yes. “Of course I’m ready, Rum. I love you.”

His eyes closed in pleasure. If that was all she ever said to him again, it would be more than enough to keep him content. “Alright, then.”

He didn’t bother with the buttons; a sharp twist of his wrists ripped the dress in two, spreading in tatters to her feet. He pressed her hips hard against the edge of the circular table and bent her backwards over it.

“Here!?” she squawked as he lifted her up. 

“I can’t wait, love,” he answered, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. “If you’re sure, then I can’t wait.”

She nodded dimly and lent back, giving him better access to her white shift. The thing was crafted entirely by strings, it seemed, looping together to keep the too-tight thing in place. For once, he found himself thankful that strings were something his specialty when the laces almost fell apart at his fingertips.

He admired her breasts as he finished unlacing her stays, rolling up her tight white blouse until it rested just beneath them. They bounced free when he finally pressed the white fabric over her neck, pale mounds with cherry nipples in the center, and his mouth went dry.

He’d seen her naked once, just once, and only for a few fragile moments. He’d found her tending his garden in the rain and banished her inside to warm up. When he went to her room minutes later with a cup of tea and a mouthful of snide remarks to balance out his kindness, he found her stripping off her wet clothes, most of them stuck to her like a second skin. If he’d still been human, he would’ve turned a bright red and tried to stammer out an apology. But he was a monster, and one with magic at that, so he vanished on the spot and let her believe it was just her imagination. His own imagination, though, never let him forget what her body looked like for those brief seconds.

“Describe me.”

“What?” He looked up at her, shocked, almost having forgotten that she was real and actually able to talk to him.

Her grin was shy. “I want to see myself through your eyes.”

He halted. He had little idea of what she wanted, if indeed he had any idea at all. The few times he’d done this after Milah, usually with girls who had nothing else to deal with, hadn’t exactly included much talking. Hadn’t included much pleasure, at that; he’d occasionally bring the girls off just to humiliate them (though he’d never resort to actual rape – even he had his limits), but, more often than not, it lasted just long enough for the deal to be struck. But this wasn’t a deal. This was his Belle, and he’d be damned if he was going to disappoint her when she’d come back from the dead for him.

“Your neck,” he stuttered, running the pads of his fingers over one side. “A strange fantasy, I suppose, but I used to imagine licking the flour off it when you baked. It always looked so appetizing, long and pale and elegant.”

She hummed her approval. “Go on.”

He smiled at her, fingers running across her collarbone. “Well, your lips go without saying. They’re this perfect shade of pink, bowed and round and supple. This,” he tapped her collarbone to let her know he’d moved on, “was torture to me. Your dresses never covered it, and I’d find myself wanting to lick my way from one end to the other.”

He bent his head to do just that, groaning when his own neck came into contact with her breasts.

“And these.” He tweaked her nipples between thumb and forefinger. “I always wanted these in my mouth, especially when I could see their outline under your dress. Actually…”

He ducked down before she could stop him, enveloping one of the red tips in his mouth and pulling it lately with his teeth. The moaned together when he flicked his tongue over it.

“I taste good?”

He nodded frantically, eyes closed as he tried to memorize every detail of her body below him. “Your nipples are so sweet, Belle. Sugary and warm, just like you.” He gave them each another worshipful suck before moving to the skin between her breasts. “And here, you’re like salt, musky and hot. But how can that be?” He was talking to himself more than her now, but her satisfied moans as he licked let him know it was okay. “How can you be all of this for me?” 

“It’s simple,” she laughed, breathless and wanting. “I love you. How… how do I feel?”

“Like heaven. You’re so smooth, so perfect everywhere.”

She gripped his hand tight, desperately moving it to the v between her legs even as her face burned from her boldness. “Even here?”

He moved his fingers across her mound, his breath coming out in shaking pants.

“Your curls are so soft, so wet. I want to be in you more than I want to breathe, but I’ll wait, just long enough so you can feel everything I’m feeling.”

Belle whimpered, and he moved his hand lower, gasping in surprise at what he felt. “God, you’re even wetter here. You’re absolutely soaking, love.”

His thumb whispered over her clit, making her jerk up into his palm, and he couldn’t wait anymore – he dove his first and middle fingers into her, making her scream with joy.

“And here,” he groaned, shoving his fingers in deeper, “there’s this lovely little spot that shivers every time I touch it. Does it feel good, love? Is that why you’re gripping me so tight?”

She shouted something unintelligible, and he would’ve thought her in pain if he couldn’t see her face. The love in her eyes, coupled with the heavenly sound of his hand slapping against her, was too much for him to bear. He ripped his fingers away and dove in with his mouth, kissing her with all the ferocity he could muster up.

She gasped. “How… how do I taste there?”

“Like you, sweetheart,” he moaned. “Just like you.”

If he wasn’t so intent on seeing every inch of her as he licked his way through, he might’ve let his tears flow again. He’d never been happier than in this moment, never except for those minutes when he first held his son in his arms. Her back arched all the way off the table as he stroked her with his tongue, and his hand fisted behind it, refusing to let any space come between them. Still she keened, but he only pressed deeper, his nose rubbing against her clit as his tongue sought every place that made her scream out her ecstasy.

“Please!” she cried. “Please, Rum, don’t make me wait anymore, please!”

Every muscle in his body trembled, and his cock, which he’d somewhat successfully ignored till now, pressed hard against the table. Words evaded him, unable to reply to those wonderful things she’d said, but his eyes burned into her and he hoped she understood. 

He only paused long enough to unlace his leather pants, spreading them wide as he could, before he thrust himself into her.

“Rum… oh, Rum –”

“Don’t… don’t say my name,” he stuttered out, sheathing himself even deeper. She was so small, so tight, but he was determined to fill her up to his balls. He never wanted to leave her again. “Just tell me…”

He didn’t need to say it. Her mouth turned up in the most gorgeous, full-lipped smile, and she pressed the words “I love you” to his lips in a kiss. He growled, his cock twitching in her, and he pulled her to the very edge of the table, her legs hanging off the side.

“Just tell me if it hurts, love,” he whispered, pulling out just to ram in even harder. “I’ve waited for this for so long, and I need to know if I’m too rough.”

“You couldn’t ever hurt me,” she insisted, grabbing his hips so that he fell into her even deeper. They both sighed at the sensation. “Oh, it feels so good…”

His sanity snapped, a familiar feeling, but never had it been more welcome.

He hadn’t lied – his thrusts were rough, almost unbearably so, even to him. But he kept his pace steady and maddeningly slow. With every slow pulse, he felt her hipbones dig into his, her heels flat against his arse, her whines of pleasure high in his ear. And true to her word, the only words she said, stuttered and disrupted by sharp moans, were, “I love you. Always, only you”.

“You too, Belle,” he growled in return. “I’ve always loved you.”

Those words sent his little Belle over the edge, fingers clawing down his back, and he groaned a litany of words he was sure she’d never heard before as he spilled himself in her, her walls clamped down and massaging him as he went.

They collapsed together, his mouth on her cheek while he tried to work up the strength to kiss her. Their hearts beat fast together, almost like they were trying to join through their chests, and that sensation was enough to give him his strength back.

“Was that enough ‘us’ time?” he panted, pushing back her hair as he tried to lap at her tongue again.

“For now,” she moaned. “I’ll definitely want a repeat performance, though.”

He chuckled at her and helped her sit up, magically redressing them and cleaning up any mess they might have made. While he didn’t honestly care what Snow and her lovely new husband thought, he wasn’t about to go back to his son reeking of sex. 

Just before he walked away, though, a stroke of inspiration came to him. Grinning like mad, he crawled back up to the spot where Belle had clawed at the table and magically carved in their initials. His hand tingled unpleasantly as he finished, but all thoughts of that drifted away when Belle kissed the side of his neck.

“Let Charming figure it out on his own,” he smirked, pressing a quick kiss to her hand as he followed to the wardrobe.

“This is it,” she murmured, eyes filled with love all for him. “Are you scared?”

“Never, love.” He was surprised himself to find that he wasn’t lying for once. “Not now that you’re here.”

They laughed, holding hands and standing close as they jumped in. Bae was only seconds away, mere moments, and he had his true love back…

 

He jolted awake, covered in sweat and clutching the bare cot beneath him. For one foolish moment, he grinned ear-to-ear, expecting to see his Belle and his Bae standing before him, waiting with open arms. Then the smell of rancid meat and wet stone filled his nostrils, and his smile fell to pieces.

“No,” he muttered, spinning around desperately. “No no no no no.”

He jumped to the ceiling, hunting out any loose crevice they might be hiding in. “Come back!” he shouted, clawing his way over the rocks. “Please, please, come back!”

No one answered. He felt his heart stop, his body shake, as that cold truth settled in.

“Belle, please!” he sobbed. “Please, you promised! You promised you were real.” He fell to his knees in the dirt, his tears making everything dizzy. “You promised me, love. You promised…”

He bashed his hand against the ground, and, though he’d expected it to hurt, he didn’t expect it to hurt that much. Part of him was relieved – anything to distract him from his dream, anything – until he brought the limb to his eyes, noticing that the fingers of his other were caked with old blood.

On his hand, the letters “R and B” stood out like a beacon, his blackened blood clotted up on the corners of each scratch. Beads of salty water washed away a few of the swirls as he bent his lips to his own hand, feeling utterly wasted and pathetic as he kissed the top of the B.

In the dark, his sobs turned into mad little laughs, and the guard at the end of the long hall shifted in fear. But he hardly cared, hardly even noticed. For once, he wasn’t being threatening because he wanted to.

All he wanted was for these dreams to stop…


End file.
